


Put It Into Words

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Louis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Body Worship, Emotional Sex, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Harry, Pregnant Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 05:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4594791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”</p><p>“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.” </p><p>Or, Harry and Louis go on a babymoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put It Into Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [underpressure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/underpressure/gifts).



> this is the first time I've written mpreg and it was an Experience, but I think it turned out alright in the end! at least I hope I did your prompt justice, underpressure!
> 
> thank you very much to [Reagan](http://thestagandship.tumblr.com/), my beta, and to the mods who ran this exchange!
> 
> title from Taylor Swift's 'You Are in Love'
> 
> enjoy :)

Louis kicks open the door to their chalet, carrying Harry bridal-style with his head resting on Louis’ shoulder. Harry has one arm looped around Louis’ neck, the other resting on his baby bump, twenty-two weeks along. Despite being bigger and much heavier than Louis, Harry feels pretty secure in his arms, which is a little bit of a turn on; mostly Harry’s just grateful Louis doesn’t drop him. He carries him through the living area, down the corridor and into the large bedroom, laying Harry out on the double bed.

“Stay here, I’ll get our bag.” Louis kisses Harry’s forehead and heads back out of the room to where they dumped their suitcase at the entrance.

“I’m pregnant, Lou, not sick,” Harry shouts back, sitting up a bit. Morning sunlight pours in through the white blinds, the faint rush of the ocean is audible through the open doors, and the smell of the beach is in the air. For the first time since Harry stepped off the plane just past seven this morning, he’s actually starting to feel relaxed.

“You should be relaxing,” Louis calls back, as if he can read Harry’s mind. He drags a heavy suitcase behind him and leans it against the wall of the bedroom, his biceps tensing with exertion. “That’s the whole point of this trip, innit?”

“The calm before the storm,” Harry hums, stretching out his arms. He’s still in soft trackies and a large jumper, comfy clothes for the flight to Barcelona, but it’s getting later in the morning now and the heat’s rising, meaning Harry’s starting to sweat in his clothes.

“It’s a good storm though, our families,” Louis says, flopping down on to the bed and cuddling close to Harry. He tucks his arm around Harry’s waist, kissing his temple. “The Cheshire house is perfect to raise the baby; your mum’s close, and my mum can stay in the guest bedroom when she visits.”

“And until then we have the long weekend to ourselves.” Harry tilts his head up to catch Louis’ lips in a soft, sweet kiss. It’s been so long since they’ve had the time to just enjoy each other’s company like this, with Louis having been alone in LA for the past month doing things with his record label.

That’s half the reason they’re spending a long weekend on a private beach in Barcelona before moving away from London to their private home in Cheshire: to relax and reconnect before they spend the rest of Harry’s pregnancy in peace and quiet, away from the public eye. The world has known Harry’s an omega for three years now, and that he’s madly in love with Louis for just as long. They’ve been in the public eye for almost a decade, now they want some privacy to start a family.

“Mm, what to do…” Louis trails off, kissing Harry again. His hand comes to rest on Harry’s bump, smoothing over the curve through the jumper.

Harry smiles into the kiss. “Well, the whole point of renting a chalet on the beach was to use the beach, wasn’t it?”

“I’ll get out the beach stuff then.” Louis rolls of the bed and goes digging through the suitcase for towels and swimming trunks.

Harry gets up and shimmies out of his jumper and bottoms. He chucks them on the bed to deal with later and catches sight of himself in the full length mirror built into the doors of their wardrobe. His bump is visible, not massive, but it’s definitely there, with stretch marks creeping up from the side of his soft hips, his laurel tattoos stretching as his belly grew. His pecs have grown into small breasts which… is still something he’s getting used to, and his nipples have darkened.

He’s happy to be pregnant. God, he’s over the fucking moon to be having children with Louis. They both ended up in tears when he skipped a heat and the results came in with a little pink plus. They’ve always wanted children and he’s thrilled to be knocked up, he really is, but…but people will be staring at his stomach and stretch marks and tattoos and Christ, he’s got fucking tits.

“What you thinking about?” Louis asks, coming to stand behind Harry in front of the mirror, going on to tip toes to hook his jaw over Harry’s shoulder.

“If I can get away with wearing a t-shirt to the beach,” Harry says, frowning at his reflection. So far he’s been able to get away with wearing his loose fitting clothes, and not having to drop by the maternity sections of stores, but that’s coming to an end now. He’s gonna be getting way bigger than this. Fucking hell, he’ll probably need to invest in actual bras too. Sure, once the pregnancy is over and the baby stops feeding, testosterone will become his primary sex hormone again so the small breasts will get even smaller, but who knows if they’ll disappear completely.

“Haz,” Louis says, cupping Harry’s jaw and tilting his head to meet Louis’ gaze. “You take literally every chance you can to get naked, and now you wanna cover up? What’s wrong?”

“Just… just don’t wanna scare everyone down at the beach with my stomach, is all.” Harry shrugs, trying to keep his tone light but Louis sees through him straight away.

“You’re beautiful, love,” Louis asserts, and moves from behind Harry to stand in front of him. “You’re absolutely radiant, _glowing_ , some could say. You got no reason to feel self-conscious.”

“Easy for you to say,” Harry mumbles. Louis’ just as slim and toned as ever, the literal embodiment of beauty standing in front of him. One month apart and Harry’s the only one whose body changed dramatically.

“It’s true though.” Louis splays his hands on Harry’s bump, stroking his stomach and smiling fondly. “Got our baby in there, no way that’s not beautiful.”

Harry makes a vague humming noise that clearly doesn’t satisfy Louis because he drops to his knees, cradling Harry’s stomach and pressing a closed-mouth kiss to the centre.

“You’re gorgeous, Haz, baby bump and all,” Louis says between kisses, lips fluttering over Harry’s stomach. “The stretch marks are just another part of you.” He kisses along the dark lines, just below Harry’s laurel tattoos. Louis shifts his attention to those next, whispering “Even the way your tattoos have stretched is beautiful,” into his stomach, punctuating his words with kisses. It’s like he’s trying to etch his love into Harry’s skin, one kiss at a time.

Harry bites his lip, one hand coming to rest tentatively on the back of Louis’ neck, carding through his short hair. “I’m gonna get bigger, like, really big.”

“And you’ll still be the most breathtaking person I’ve ever seen,” Louis replies, placing a final kiss on the centre of Harry’s butterfly and standing back up. He keeps his hands on the bump, leaning in until his forehead is resting against Harry’s. “Plus you’ve got cute tits.”

“Oh my God,” Harry groans, squeezing his eyes shut. He hears Louis laugh, kissing Harry’s cheek.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you know you can wear a t-shirt out there,” Louis says then, laughter fading from his voice, going back to the soft, reassuring tone from before. He always knows just how to make Harry feel more comfortable, makes him feel so safe, and he’s gonna make a fantastic father. “But having a bump and stretch marks and like, the smallest tits in existence aren’t anything to be ashamed of. I will fucking fight anyone that says otherwise.”

“I love you,” Harry says, because it’s all he can think when it comes to Louis, ninety percent of the time. “And I’ll go shirtless, get my vitamin D, but you’re rubbing sun cream on to me.”

“I’ll give you vitamin D,” Louis smirks, and Harry barks with laughter. “And honestly, Harold, you think I’m gonna let you do a shit job of covering yourself and then put up with you complaining about it all weekend? No fucking way.”

“I picked a good mate,” Harry coos to his baby bump, and grins up at Louis. There’s a matching smile on Louis’ face, fond and affectionate, and Harry gets lost just staring at him. Even after seven years, he still can’t believe he got so lucky.

Louis nods sagely. “You did, I’m a delight.”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far,” Harry jokes, moving to grab the swim trunks Louis chucked on the bed. They’re his tiny yellow ones with an elastic waist that’ll stretch to fit the baby bump, and Louis’ personal favourite because they barely cover his arse. Harry switches his boxers for them and grabs a beach towel. “You’re alright.”

“I’m fucking fantastic,” Louis says, changing into his own shorts. Harry openly stares at his arse as it’s exposed, only to be covered by a pair of tight, red trunks. They cling to his bum and upper thighs; Harry can’t wait to see them after swimming in the sea.

“Sure, Jan,” Harry says, biting back a giggle when Louis groans.

“Really, Haz? _Memes?_ ”

“I know you love them,” Harry chirps, emptying his backpack he took on the flight with him and stuffing it with sun cream, his tablet, bottles of water, phones and iPods, and the keys to the chalet. The beach is literally on their doorstep; they shouldn’t need much, but they’re lazy fucks that won’t want to leave the beach once they settle.

Louis rolls his eyes, taking the backpack off Harry and slinging it over his shoulder, technically his backpack anyway. They lock up the chalet and walk the short distance to the beach, hand in hand. Louis fits his sunglasses over his eyes, squeezing Harry’s palm.

The beach isn’t massively crowded at all, the opposite, in fact, They’re in a private section and it’s early enough that there are only a few couples here and there, with barely any young children. People recognising them shouldn’t be an issue, especially considering One Direction have been on hiatus for a good year now.

They pick a spot near the middle of the beach, equidistant from the sea and the chalets. Harry rolls out his towel and sits in the centre, digging the sun cream out of the bag. Louis spreads his towel out next to Harry’s and kicks off his flip flops, wordlessly accepting the sun cream from Harry and guiding him into a sitting position, facing away from Louis.

“I don’t get how you can do so much yoga and still have shitty posture,” Louis comments, straightening Harry’s back before smearing sun cream on to his shoulders and dropping the bottle. He says it offhandedly, a mutter to himself more than anything, but Harry makes a wounded noise anyway. “’S true, babe.”

“I’m pregnant!” Harry protests, meaning to sound indignant but Louis’ working the sun cream into his skin and really, he’s putty in Louis’ clever hands. “I will literally be squeezing a baby out of my arse in a few months. Cut me some slack on my posture, yeah?”

“To be fair, it’s always been shit.” Louis digs his fingers beneath Harry’s shoulder blades, cutting off Harry’s reply with a moan. Trust Louis to get distracted from putting sun cream on Harry by giving him an impromptu massage. Not that Harry’s complaining, he’ll take every opportunity to get Louis’ hands on him, especially after a two-week drought.

Louis works efficiently from then, applying the sun cream all over Harry’s back, making sure to pinch Harry’s soft sides until he’s squealing. He shuffles around so he’s facing Louis and lets him cover his chest and stomach, arms and legs, all but his face in sun cream (which Harry insists he _is_ capable of doing himself). He’s not sure if it’s Louis’ alpha instincts that have him so adamant about taking care of Harry, or if that’s just what Louis’ like. It’s probably a bit of both, Louis’ incredibly family-orientated and would do anything and everything for Harry, because he’s Harry _and_ because they’re bonded.

“Your turn,” Harry says, taking the pouring sun cream on to his palm and slapping it on to Louis’ back. He’s not quite as graceful as Louis was, his hands are big but they’re not really that dextrous. Still, he spends a lot longer than is arguably necessary flitting his hands up and down Louis’ sides, just touching him for the sake of it.

Louis’ insistent about applying the sun cream to the rest of his body himself, so Harry settles back with his earphones in and sticks on one of the many summer playlists he’s made. With his sunglasses on and Louis’ hand interlocking with his, he’s content to drift off and catch up on some sleep. They caught an early flight which meant an even earlier start, and Harry can never sleep properly on planes.

The songs blur into each other as he dozes, the baking heat of the sun intensifying the longer he lies there. He likes it though, feeling sunshine reach every inch of his body, warming his skin until he’s all gooey and relaxed. At some point, he’s pretty sure he feels Louis rub more cream on to his belly, peppering light kisses over the swell of the bump. The closest he comes to rousing is when Louis turns his attention to Harry’s pecs, again, just rubbing sun cream in, but Harry’s chest is incredibly sensitive on the average day, let alone when he’s midway through his pregnancy. Still, Louis’ too protective to try anything in broad daylight on a beach with enough people to catch them out, so he keeps his touches mostly clinical, and Harry can keep on napping.

Sometime later, Harry’s too sluggish to be sure exactly how long, Louis gently pulls the headphone from Harry’s ear and prods his side. “Haz, Harry, Hazza,” he repeats, until Harry grunts and pushes his sunglasses up, squinting at Louis. “Say cheese.”

Before Harry’s even aware, Louis’ snapping a picture, a fond smile on his face as he taps away on his phone.

“Please tell me you’re not posting that,” Harry croaks, sitting up a bit so his weight is resting on his elbows. He lolls his head, watching Louis work before he’s all but shoving the phone in Harry’s face. It’s his Instagram feed, two photos on top of each other. The first is Harry before he was rudely awakened, his profile strong in the bright light. Louis captioned it with a sleeping face and a red heart emoji. Harry only swoons a little. The second is just as awful as Harry anticipated; he looks confused and pretty tired, but the three red heart emojis as a caption makes up for it a little. “You shit.”

“Giving the people what they want, Harold,” Louis teases, smacking a kiss on Harry’s cheek and tucking his phone away. “Fancy a dip in the sea?”

“Sure.” Harry sits up properly, taking off his sunglasses and shaking out his hair. “The GP said swimming is good to do when pregnant.”

“Ace.” Louis leaps to his feet and helps Harry up, not that Harry really needs it. He’s not _that_ big yet. “I’d say race you but…”

Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Don’t need to remind me, Lewis. You can carry me though.”

Louis fist pumps the air, like it’s some privilege to be carrying Harry, which damn right it is. He sweeps Harry up into his arms bridal-style and starts the short walk to the sea. “D’you know what? I can’t wait for you to give birth so I can be carried again.”

“I could give you a piggy back,” Harry muses, tucking his head between Louis’ shoulder and neck. His skin is warm and smells like sand and salt. Harry inhales deeply. “Pretty sure that’s not dangerous, especially in the sea.”

One of the best things about the beaches in the Mediterranean is that the water is actually clear and warm, not the dull brown sludgy kind of the UK. Harry can see Louis’ feet as he steps further into the sea, shallow waves crashing into his ankles, splashing against the spider web tattoo. Louis wades out until he’s waist-deep, the water ebbing against Harry’s back now, before carefully letting Harry go.

“It’s so warm,” Harry says happily, sinking down so the water comes up to his shoulders. His toes curl in the sand, his arms rippling the surface as he waves them back and forth. He feels lighter already, the bump resting on the water, taking the weight off his shoulders.

So of course Louis ruins Harry’s precious moment of happiness.

Well, not ruins, per se. Louis splashes salt water into Harry’s face, giggling when Harry splutters and stares in shock. Not for long though, he reacts quickly enough, splashing water back at Louis until they’ve ended up in some all-out water fight that has Harry breathless with laughter. It only ends when Louis sneaks up behind Harry and crawls on to his back, wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips, beneath the bump, so Harry can’t get to him.

“I win,” he murmurs, kissing the trail of salt water off Harry’s neck. “You’ve always gotta watch for the sneak attacks, babe.”

“If I didn’t think it’d maybe hurt the baby I’d be dunking you right now,” Harry laughs, fitting his broad hands underneath Louis’ thighs to keep him from slipping down. He shifts Louis a little higher and starts walking in no real direction, piggy backing Louis through the sea.

“I think the baby could survive a dunk or two,” Louis muses, threading his arms underneath Harry’s to pat his stomach. “They’ve got _our_ genes, don’t you remember?”

“As if I could forget you knocking me up, honestly.” Harry shakes his head. From the moment they decided to try for a baby, forgoing suppressants and birth control, their sex got a little wild (more so than usual) and _very_ baby-orientated. The number of times Louis knotted him with some variant of _“gonna knock you up, baby”_ rolling off his tongue was enough that Harry lost count. He loved it each time though, especially when Louis followed it up with plugging Harry so his come couldn’t leak out of his body. It’s really no wonder they got pregnant so fast.

“Exactly,” Louis hums, nipping Harry’s ear and smoothing his palm over the baby bump again. “We’re gonna have loads of babies. Fill a whole house with them.”

“I can’t wait,” Harry says honestly, imagining their future, fifteen years down the line when they’ve got a house full of children with Louis’ eyes and Harry’s curls and both their smiles and _definitely_ their love of mischief. “I hope they get your rope tat – wait.”

“Oh my fucking God,” Louis wheezes, erupting into high-pitched laughter. He clings to Harry even more as he cackles, for fear of slipping off his back. “Oh babe, _no_.”

“It’s not my fault!” Harry cries, resisting the urge to let go of Louis’ thighs so he can cover his face with his hands. “You’ve had your tattoos for so long now—”

“You forgot I wasn’t born with them?” Louis laughs even harder. “Fuck, babe, we’ve gotta go back to shore. I need to text the boys about this.”

“I hate you,” Harry pouts, starting the trek to their base. He’s holding back his own laughs though, and he really, really doesn’t hate him in the slightest.

***

“I bagsy first shower!” Louis yells when Harry piggy backs Louis into their chalet, just in time for Louis to squirm his way off his back and dart into the bathroom, dumping their stuff by the door.

“We’re married, you prick!” Harry yells after him, following him into the bathroom. “We can shower together.”

The water’s running when Harry steps into the bathroom since Louis moves quickly, his trunks haphazardly strewn across the tiled floor. Harry moves them to the counter under a mirror stretching the width of the wall so they don’t slip on them later. He strips off his own swimming trunks and drops them next to Louis’, and gets into the shower.

“Pretty great water pressure,” Louis says, facing away from Harry with his head under the spray. After just one day of sun, Louis’ skin is already tanned evenly. He’s glowing. All Harry wants to do is get on his knees and lick the droplets of water off Louis’ golden skin.

Harry hums in response, the close confinements of the shower forcing them to press against each other. Not that they wouldn’t be even if the shower was the size of the bathroom itself. Harry’s wet slides against Louis’ body when he rests his hands on Louis’ waist, moving him to the side so Harry can stand under the showerhead.

It’s a strange, blissful sensation, feeling the sand wash from his body. Louis hands him a bottle of the complimentary shower gel, and it’s even better when he’s scrubbing that on to his skin. The dirt and grime and salt from the sea trickling down the drain, leaving him feeling smooth and new. He wets his hair next, tilting his head back with his eyes shut, running his hands through the locks to let the water reach it all.

He’s blindly reaching for shampoo and lathering up his hair when he feels Louis kiss along his stomach. They’re soft, close-mouthed kisses, a necessity if he doesn’t want water to swallow litres of water. His forehead rests against Harry’s bump as the shampoo washes from his hair, trickling down his back where it mostly avoids getting in Louis’ face.

“Lou,” Harry murmurs, opening his eyes and staring down at Louis’ reverent expression. He’s stroking Harry’s side, delicate fingers skimming over his curves with lingering touches. “Lou,” he repeats, because there’s nothing else he can say. _I’ll love you for the rest of my life_ just doesn’t feel adequate.

“Let me,” Louis replies, standing and reaching for the conditioner. He turns Harry around gently, and tilts his head back again. The water hits Harry’s face directly now, but he doesn’t pay it too much attention, just squeezes his eyes and mouth shut while Louis works a ridiculous amount of conditioner into his hair.

They’ve done this for each other more times than they can count, after they realised unless you have big showers with grips on the porcelain, shower sex is too tricky to have on regular basis. They turned their attention to becoming ridiculously efficient at washing each other’s hair and giving head massages under the spray. It’s what Louis’ doing now, pressing his fingers expertly into Harry’s scalp until he’s fighting back pleasured moans.

“Let ‘em out, love,” Louis whispers, threading his fingers through Harry’s hair. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t wanna make this sexual,” Harry slurs, voice dropping. It’s no secret that Harry likes having his hair played with, and it’s certainly something Louis exploits, so ninety percent of their shower times are followed up with sex but… but the niggling, insecurity from earlier is back and eating away at Harry. He’s fucking pregnant, and sure, twenty-two weeks isn’t _that_ far along, so he’s doing alright now, but other than the fumbling exchange of hand jobs last night, when Louis got back from LA, they haven’t actually had sex in a month. Plus, soon enough Harry’s gonna be sore and bloated and cranky; he just doesn’t feel sexy. It’s only recently that the feeling’s been growing, but naked and wet and faced with the very real possibility that this could end in sex is making him want to cover himself in a giant blanket, away from Louis’ eyes.

“That’s okay,” Louis says simply, guiding Harry’s head back under the shower and washing out the conditioner. Louis’ long since perfected the art of washing Harry’s hair without getting something in his eye. “Doesn’t have to be sexual at all if you don’t want it to be.”

Harry nods, blinking his eyes open to watch the last of the conditioner swirl down the drain. “Thanks.”

He stays in the shower while Louis quickly washes his own hair, not being anywhere near as gentle as he was with Harry’s. He soaks his hair one final time and turns the water off, guiding Harry out of the shower. Harry grabs the nearest towels, passing one to Louis and wrapping the other around his shoulders. They dry off quickly, Louis dumping the towel in the sink and Harry wrapping his around his hair, content to let the air take care of the rest.

“Want me to plait your hair?” Louis asks when they’re back in the bedroom and Harry’s digging through their bags for his moisturiser. He knows he packed it somewhere, and there it is, lying right underneath his deodorant.

“Please,” he answers, climbing on to the bed and kissing Louis sweetly. He sits with his back to Louis and takes the towel from his hair, chucking it on to the floor. “Don’t bother waiting for it to dry, just don’t plait it too tight, thanks.”

“Sure,” Louis says, parting Harry’s damp hair into the necessary strands. It’s a calming thing for both of them; Louis plaiting Harry’s hair, and Harry feeling Louis’ fingers work. There’s something about the ritual motions of the simple French plaits forming, of Louis’ quiet breaths and Harry having to do nothing but hold still for a few minutes, that settles something in Harry. It’s easier to wade through his chaotic thoughts when Louis plaits his hair. Since they first met, and Harry’s hair became long enough to start plaiting properly, this has always been a thing between them. It makes Harry feel looked after, and he loves that.

“Thank you,” Harry offers when Louis finishes, unable to tie the plaits with a bobble so they’ll fall loose when Harry’s hair dries. He doesn’t mind though, will gladly let Louis shake them out and run his hands through Harry hair until the curls fall over his shoulders.

Louis kisses him softly just under his ear, at the top of his jaw. “Any time, babe,” he says, crawling around Harry so he’s sitting in front of him. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’m not like, I’m not feeling bad or anything,” Harry says, pulling Louis’ right hand on to his lap and tracing the rope tattoo idly. It’s easier to be honest when he’s touching Louis. “I just don’t feel too sexy, you know? Like, thinking about how I’m only gonna get bigger from here and stuff, it’s a lot. And we haven’t had proper sex in a while, Skype and FaceTime sex isn’t the same so...”

Louis tilts Harry’s chin up with his free hand, leaning close so his scent fills Harry’s senses. “Haz, if you don’t wanna have sex or do anything like that for the rest of your pregnancy, that’s absolutely fine and your choice, babe.” He strokes Harry’s cheek, cradling his jaw. “I’ll respect that one hundred percent. But even if you don’t feel sexy, I still maintain that you’re the sexiest person I’ve ever seen, love. You’re gonna be days away from popping our baby out, waddling everywhere with swollen ankles, and still gonna be fit as fuck.”

That makes Harry crack a smile, bumping his lips against Louis’ because he’s really grinning too widely to kiss him properly. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Even if you are a filthy liar.”

“Not lying,” Louis insists, kissing him again. “You’re beautiful, Haz.” He tacks on, “I love you too,” and Harry kisses him back, finally.

“It’s not that I don’t want sex,” Harry tells him when they break apart, because this seems important. He knows Louis would support it if he never wanted sex again, though it’s still reassuring to have Louis say that, but that’s not the case. “Like, now or at any point during the pregnancy. I’m just still feeling a little self-conscious and I don’t know if it’d still be good.”

“ _Baby_ ,” Louis says, like it’s punched out of him. “Harry, love, you don’t have to worry about that. There’s no way sex with you could be bad ‘cause even if it was objectively the _worst_ sex in the whole fucking world, it’s still great because it’s with you.”

“Can we take it slow?” Harry asks, leaning his forehead against Louis, fighting back tears because he loves him so, so much. “Build back up to it?”

“Yeah, of course.” Louis squeezes their hands. “How about I lay you out and kiss you for a bit, get you relaxed and comfortable, and then I blow you? We don’t have to if it’s too much or you don’t want to, but –”

“No, that sounds good!” Harry assures him, arousal curling in his stomach at the thought of Louis’ lips on him. “Better than good, Lou. Always wanna be kissed by you.”

Louis runs his hands down Harry’s neck and shoulders, trailing them over his sensitive chest and down to his bump. “Fancy a massage as well? Pretty sure you packed some fancy oils.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me,” Harry laughs. He’s used to Louis going all out when it comes to things like this. Louis constantly does everything he can to make sure Harry’s happy and comfortable, and Harry appreciates it so much, loves him so much.

“Only the best for my love,” Louis coos, yelping indignantly when Harry whacks him with a pillow for being sappy. Someone’s gotta keep him in line.

Harry lies on his back in the centre of the bed, propping his head up on a pillow and wriggling his toes. There’s a tingly sensation around his nipples so he rubs them idly while watching Louis dig through the suitcase for the fancy oils Harry did indeed pack. They’re both still naked, and while Harry isn’t too thrilled about looking at himself, he’s openly admiring the curve of Louis’ arse as he bends over. It’s enough to get him wet for sure.

“Right, there might be a bit of an issue,” Louis says when he’s kneeling beside Harry, one hand protectively on the baby bump. “I was planning a fancy back massage to loosen you up because you’re easy for those, but you can’t really lie on your belly, can you?”

“Uh, not really.” Harry bites his lip, thinking. “I can sit up?”

“Nah, stay there.” Louis shuffles further down Harry’s body so he’s kneeling by Harry’s knees. “I’ll improvise. Massage your thighs, yeah?”

“Okay,” Harry says, letting his eyes fall shut. He takes even breaths and listens to Louis uncapping a bottle, squirting the oil into his palm. It’s only a little cold when Louis starts rubbing it into his skin, and it quickly warms up under his hands. Just like when Louis rubbed sun cream on to him earlier, Harry lets himself drift, focusing on Louis kneading his flesh and his muscles slowly relaxing. It doesn’t make him as languid as the back massages do, and Louis’ ends up doing all his legs as well. When he gets to Harry’s feet he tickles them until Harry’s squirming and laughing.

Harry manages to kick Louis off, letting him crawl up the bed so he’s lying on his side pressed up against Harry. Cradling Harry’s jaw with one hand, Louis coaxes Harry into a deep kiss. It used to feel like free-falling, when they first got together way back during _The X Factor._ It felt like nothing else could ever be as exhilarating as kissing Louis where everything is new and exciting. Now, it’s more familiar, easy to fall into the rhythm of lips gliding against each other. Now, kissing Louis is a solid tether in the middle of a storm, grounding Harry like nothing else.

“I love you,” Harry whispers, just to feel the smile stretch across Louis’ face. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be tired of saying that, can’t imagine a time where it won’t be true. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Don’t say that in front of the baby,” Louis says, nipping Harry’s lower lip. “They’ll get jealous.”

“I love you too, little guy,” Harry coos at his stomach. Louis strokes the bump with his fingers, tracing circles over the swell. Just thinking about them having an _actual baby_ , creating a new life that’s part of each of them, raising it together and starting a family, has Harry thrumming with excitement. “We’re gonna be a family.”

Louis smiles like the sun. “We are,” he breathes, kissing Harry again. “We’re gonna be a family.”

Harry hums into the kiss, tilting his head to avoid bumping their noses when Louis licks into his mouth. It’s slow and sweet, the gradual build up Harry needed for something more. He feels Louis’ hand travel up his belly to his chest, his thumb catching on Harry’s nipple.

Harry inhales sharply, eyes flying open when Louis thumbs it again, rubbing tight circles around the nub. “Sensitive,” he hisses, his nipples hardening as Louis shimmies down to kiss the other lightly.

“Good sensitive?” Louis asks, flicking his gaze up at Harry, breathless. “Want me to stop?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, earning another pinch. His toes curl, eyelashes fluttering. Sparks of pleasure shoot to his cock every time Louis touches his nipples, but there’s something extra this time around, a heaviness he’s not used to. “They feel weird, like, heavy. Sore.”

Louis makes a quiet noise, rolling Harry’s nipple between his fingers and watching it attentively. The pressure keeps building and building until Louis’ lets go, murmuring, “Fucking hell, Harry.”

“What is it?” Harry asks, panicked. He looks down to see Louis staring at his nipple, little cloudy white drops forming at the peak.

“When do you start lactating?” Louis asks, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip almost subconsciously.

“Um, it can happen any time, I think. Some people start at like, fifteen weeks but other don’t start until near their due date,” Harry answers, biting his lip. “Shit, am I lactating?”

“I think so, babe.” Louis pinches his nipple again and more milk forms at the peak, trickling on to Harry’s chest. It feels strange, his nipple actually leaking, but the longer Louis teases it, the more Harry likes it. His arse is already wet with slick. “Mind if I…”

“Drink it?” Harry supplies. His cock likes the idea, stiffening at the thought of Louis sucking his nipples, but Harry always assumed lactating would be accompanied by those cotton pads that absorb the milk and banning Louis from touching his chest in case it was too sore. He never expected…this. “Do you want to?”

Louis ducks his head, nosing the soft swell of Harry’s pecs. “A lot more than I thought I would,” he admits, licking his lips again. “Wanna see if it tastes like you.”

“I—okay.” Harry nods, carding his fingers through Louis’ soft hair. “You can, uh, you can do that.”

Louis shuffles up just enough to kiss Harry’s lips one last time, before returning his attention to Harry’s nipples. He starts by licking the milk that’s already formed, running his tongue over the dark pink peak. Harry moans softly, watching Louis kiss all over his small breast until he finally attaches his mouth to Harry’s nipple, suckling lightly.

It’s not something that’s new for them, kissing and sucking each other’s nipples, not even close, but sucking with the intent for milk to come out is an entirely new experience. Harry can feel the pressure again, building in his pec until it reaches its peak the same time Louis growls, suckling harder, greedy for what he can get. He brings a hand up to play with Harry’s other nipple, pinching and rolling it to get the milk flowing.

Louis keeps sucking until there’s nothing left to come out of his breast, surging up to kiss Harry and share the taste. Harry whimpers at the sweetness coming from Louis’ lips, sucking it from Louis’ tongue. He’s dripping wet by the time Louis latches on to his other nipple, his cock stiff under the baby bump.

There’s a strong scent of Louis in the air too, his natural pheromones increasing like they do when he’s near a rut, and Harry’s getting more turned on the more he inhales them. He’s always loved Louis’ scent, rich and earthy, especially when it clings to Harry after they’ve fucked or cuddled, loves that it’s another way to be marked.

“Lou,” Harry whines, shifting his hips so his cock brushes against Louis’ thigh, letting him know how turned on he is. “Lou, your scent.”

Louis pulls of Harry’s nipple with a pop, lapping up the last few drops of milk. He studies Harry with dark eyes, a hand trailing down Harry’s stomach and past his cock to where he’s slick between his cheeks. “You’re so wet, baby.”

Harry nods eagerly, grinding his hips against Louis’ fingers. “I want it, Lou – _fuck_ – want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Louis retracts his hand and grips Harry’s hips instead, digging his fingers into Harry’s soft flesh. “How d’you want it, love? Like this?” He holds himself up over Harry, the bump not quite big enough to make this position undoable. “Or on your hands and knees? Do you wanna ride me, H?”

“Want it,” Harry breaks off, wriggling out from underneath Louis and turning on his side. Louis presses himself up against Harry’s back, his hard cock rubbing against Harry’s arse. “Want it like this. I wanna get lost in you.”

He’s not entirely sure it makes sense, but Louis seems to understand it, crowding even closer to Harry and pressing his lips to Harry’s neck. He slides his hand down Harry’s body and fits his fingers between his cheeks, rubbing his slick hole. Harry whines, arching back into Louis instantly, and buries his face in the pillow. Louis pushes in with one finger, flexing it inside Harry until he’s used to the stretch.

It’s been a long time since they’ve fucked, and now that Louis’ fucking him with two fingers, Harry finally realises how much he missed this. Louis makes quick work of it, scissoring his fingers and pressing them deep. He hitches Harry’s leg up to give himself a better angle to work a third finger in, wet sounds mixing with Harry’s muffled moans. When Louis finds his prostate, Harry bites back a wail, the pregnancy making him more sensitive so even the briefest brush of fingers feels like fire under Harry’s skin.

“I’ve got you, love,” Louis soothes, spreading his fingers so Harry groans, his rim stretching easily. He’s more than ready to take Louis’ cock now, but Louis’ always loved teasing Harry until he can’t form coherent thoughts, just takes what Louis deigns to give him. “Gonna show you how much I love you.”

“By fucking me?” Harry asks, voice cracking on the last word when Louis jabs into his prostate.

“By making love to you,” Louis corrects, and Harry has to turn his head to kiss him. The angle is awkward and his neck kind of hurts, but there’s no one on Earth he cares about more than Louis and when he says stuff like that, Harry just needs to kiss him and show him that he loves him too. “You deserve all the good things in the world, Haz, and I’m gonna give ‘em to you.”

“You’re the most important thing in my life, Lou,” Harry says with a shiver. Louis draws out his fingers and lines himself up against Harry’s hole, smearing Harry’s slick on to his cock to lube it up. “You and our baby, you’re everything to me.”

Louis pushes in slowly, giving Harry inch and inch and letting him adjust, until he’s flush against Harry’s hips. They’ve been doing it bare for years now, and Harry still isn’t over how much of Louis he can feel like this. He clenches around Louis, relishing the hard thickness of it, and lets out a small whine.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Louis whispers like a confession, gently rocking his hips. It’s not the kind of position that lets him go particularly hard or fast, but it’s deep and intimate and perfect for how Harry’s feeling right now.

“You won’t have to, Lou,” Harry says, tilting his head up as Louis starts kissing his neck, sucking marks into his tan skin. Louis links their left hands, aligning the rose and dagger tattoos, and curls their arms protectively around Harry’s stomach. He shifts until he’s hitting Harry’s prostate with steady, even thrusts, punching the breath out of Harry each time. “We’re in it together.”

“I could search the whole world, baby, and I’d never find anyone better than you,” Louis hums, bucking his hips. He drags their joint hands to Harry’s cock and swipes his thumb over the cockhead, dripping with precome and getting the sheets messy. Harry jerks under Louis touch, his palm curling around his cock mostly, but he can feel Louis’ fingers like electric between his own. “You make me so strong, baby.”

Harry doesn’t last much longer, minutes at the most, and when he does come, it’s secondary to Louis whispering love declarations in his ear. The residual aftershocks of his orgasm wash over him as Louis keeps fucking his hips upwards, driving into Harry erratically until he’s coming in thick spurts. The wetness of Louis’ come inside him elicits a gasp from Harry, and the lack of knot is vaguely upsetting, but Louis’ biting on Harry’s shoulder, his scent overwhelming Harry’s senses.

“Not used to being able to just slip out,” Louis hums, soothing the area he bit Harry with a kiss.

Harry pulls their joint fingers back up to his stomach, rubbing wide circles over the bump. “You know I think our baby can recognise voices now. Like, they definitely know mine and yours at least. I hope they can tell how much we love each other.”

“I think a foetus is a bit young to understand abstract concepts like love, babe,” Louis teases, kissing Harry’s cheek and letting go of Harry’s hand to stroke the bump himself. “But I hope so t— _oh._ They kicked, Haz.”

“You felt it?” Harry laughs breathlessly, angling his head to see the look of wonder on Louis’ face as he stares at the bump. He’s been feeling the baby kick for a little while now, but they’ve never been hard enough for Louis to feel them too, except now, apparently.

“Yeah,” Louis says reverently. “Yeah, I could feel it. That’s fucking incredible.”

“We’re gonna be dads, Lou,” Harry beams, nuzzling against Louis’ cheek.

Louis hugs Harry against him tightly, burying his face in Harry’s neck. “We’re gonna be a family.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> the tumblr post is [here](http://achilleus.tumblr.com/post/130773555189/your-wildest-fantasy-rating-explicit-pairing/) if you fancy sharing :)


End file.
